


Languor

by LookingForDroids



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Ficlet, Glove Kink, POV Second Person, Service Top/Pillow Princess OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForDroids/pseuds/LookingForDroids
Summary: Folykl likes to be taken care of.
Relationships: Folykl Darane/Marsti Houtek
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Languor

You like the way she looks like this – reclining on your concupiscent platform, clean from your ablution trap, with her hair spread out behind her like a downy storm cloud and the citrus scent of your soap on her skin. You like the way she smiles as you bend over her, and the little catch in her breath as you kiss her quick and then draw back, careful by habit so you can be careless later by choice. And as for her, she likes to be taken care of: soft sheets beneath her, soft leather gloves on her skin, the pleasure of touch and the weary luxury of doing nothing at all to earn it. You can’t give her much, but you can give her that.

You run your hands down her sides, lingering on the vulnerable softness between her thoracic struts and her hips; she shivers and shifts a little against the platform, sprawled out comfortably, waiting for whatever else you want to give her. Tired, maybe. Maybe just indolent. It doesn’t matter to you. You take a moment to enjoy the sight of her beneath you, then move back until you can touch her hips, her thighs, the two twining bulges that reach up to catch at your fingers, leaving trails of gold against the black of your gloves. Nobody makes anything this nice in rust, but she doesn’t care about colors anyway, though she’d appreciate the perversity if you told her that you managed to acquire something in violet just for her. You bought these for the way they feel. She exhales shakily when you take both bulges in your careful grip, presses her face into your sheets with a quiet gasp as you stroke her, and you decide that the expense was worth it. 

Your own bulge aches, rubbing against the front of your work pants, and kneeling over her means you can’t press your legs together to relieve the emptiness in your nook, but you can wait a little longer for that. You’ll take care of yourself after you’re done with her, with your gloves still on and her color still on them. Right now, she’s yours – pliant beneath your hands, safe in your hive where nobody and nothing else can touch her – and you’re going to prove it. You’ll lay your claim on her, with your hands and your mouth and every little scrap of energy you can offer, until the weight of empire is far away and it’s easy to believe that what you can offer might matter.


End file.
